Duole
by SerpentsAttire
Summary: AU MWPP era. On graduation day, a brooding Remus comes face to face with his father, and a protective Sirius finally manages to get some words in. SBRL slash.


_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or any other character found within J.K. Rowling's novels. Likewise, I did not write this story to be any form of slander, nor do I make any profit from it._

_**Notes:**Duole is a birthday gift to two of my best friends, Brandi and Vicki. I'm well aware that I wrote this without updating my other stories, but I'm quite certain that, if it annoys you, you will quickly get over it. _

_**Notes2:** Advanced apologies for any obvious spelling errors. I'm writing this on FFs edit/preview, and me and its spellcheck are having words about apostrophes. T.T Duole - Italian for "hurts"_

_**Warnings: AU, **slash, adultish themes, mentions of past child abuse, language, angst, and ... some fluff. Enjoy._

**Duole**

Six years of his life had been spent confined in the makeshift dungeons of his family's home. The day his Hogwarts letter had flown into his hands via the very small window provided to his prison had been the first best day of his life that he could remember. When Albus Dumbledore had shown up a day later, assuring his parents that even with his "ailment", he (and the rest of the students) would be perfectly safe, was a day that became the basis of every pure dream he had ever dreamt. The following seven years, exempting any and all summer vacations, were Heaven, filled with smiles and laughter and friendships and everything that he had convinced himself years earlier he would never be deserving enough to experience.

But as he stood on the podium with his fellow classmates in the middle of Hogwarts' Quidditch Pitch, prepared to be officially titled a graduate, Remus John Lupin could not help but feel as though his beloved sanctuary was now being ripped out from under him.

The audience that stood before them were grinning with happiness and unadulterated pride, some noticing his wondering amber eyes and shooting him _understanding _smiles. He did not return the expressions. The people before him were only smiling at what they believed him to be. They looked at him and saw a young wizard who wore the insignia of being at the top of his class, and therefore found him acceptable. Remus knew that if they were aware of who -- _what_ -- he truly was, their smiles would be grimaces of disgust, their cheers enraged outcries for his blood on the ground and his head on a pike.

Which was the way his life would be once the Headmaster let them loose. A life full of scowls, snarls, spit, names ...

"Lighten up, Moony," a voice hissed from behind him jovially. "You're graduating. Look sharp, Fluffy."

It would, of course, go to figure that Professor McGonagall would be both cruel and kind enough to stick Sirius Black behind him in the Gryffindor standing arrangement. He loved his friend, naturally, but if the animagus' fingers trailed down his spine one more time, he would make him understand which one of them was "Fluffy". As though reading his mind, Sirius allowed the tips of the offending fingers to brush the side of Remus' leg, chuckling softly as Remus leaned away with a low whine of annoyance.

"Relax now and I'll make it worth your while later," his lover whispered in promise, before instantly pulling back. "But I'd put your wand away for right now, Moony. They're about to announce _it_." Startled at the proclamation, Remus' eyes floated to the stage beside them, where indeed Headmaster Dumbledore was beaming at the witches and wizards around him. Dread inundated his stomach as the elderly wizard brought his wand to his throat, wincing as the voice of power was magnified to give the words of his death sentence.

"_I now present to you, ladies, gentlemen, and small uninterested children, the 32nd graduating class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since my first day as Headmaster_"

He did not hear the thunderous applause. He did not feel Sirius' kind hand reaching up to give his neck a loving grip; did not see him run off to tackle James. He did not acknowledge his housemates swarming around him in search of their families. He felt nothing -- saw nothing -- other than the dark hazel eyes that had caught his from the back of the crowd.

He didn't command his feet to move, and yet they did, pulling him from the podium and toward the eyes that were watching him so expressionlessly. His spirit itself seemed to bulk at the figure before him -- pulling back, rearing, denying. The creature inside of him growled low in warning -- life was not guaranteed to this ... _thing_. And so Remus tried hard to dig his toes into the soft dirt beneath his feet; tried to catch someone's attention, so that they could call his attention to them, and therefore redirect his path. But it was not to be, and before he knew it -- before his wolf knew it -- he was standing before the one man in the world he could honestly say he hated.

"I didn't think you would come." The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. "Hello, Father."

Remus knew there had once been a time when John Lupin had been the doting parent he should have always been. His mind could vaguely recall a time before cages, cellars, and the dungeons that were conjured when his body grew too large. A time when he was held protectively in the arms of a man of whom he was the spitting image, where he was swung high in the air to induce giggles of happiness instead of cries of terror. A time when there had been kind words and pats on the head instead of blasphemous hisses and swift kicks to already broken ribs. But those memories had long since disappeared, and with them, the man the werewolf had once affectionately called, "Daddy".

"I was surprised to receive an invitation," the older man admitted softly, never breaking their gaze.

"Thought I would have forgotten you?" Remus responded, trying to sound nonchalant. Inside, however, his heart was beating with sickening excitement. He had read scenarios like this a thousand times, where after years of bitter separation, a father and son would reconcile at some important event, like a graduation. The father would always say that he didn't think he would be invited. The son would reply with something sharp, but after a few moments of awkwardness, the two would embrace, and bygones would slide by to either be dealt with later, or never again ...

"I was surprised that they allowed you to graduate with the rest of the students, and that you would receive an award that should have given to a _normal_, _intelligent_ wizard."

If John were to have taken a silver dagger and slammed it into his son's heart, twisting it around until there was no more life left in his body, it would have hurt far less than those words.

Unconsciously, Remus took a step back, fighting to keep his head up, his chin straight, and their eyes locked. Weakness was something his father was certain he had, and the werewolf would not allow him that particular victory. Not here.

Not again.

"I had to see for myself, to make sure Dumbledore wasn't just trying to pull something over on me. I wonder ... would you have won that award if all of them knew what you are?"

"They do know," Remus whispered softly, protesting. "The professors. They know what I am, and they're fine with it. Every single one of them." John simply offered up a patronizing smile.

"Perhaps they do," he allowed. "But what about the other students, and their parents?" Finally, Remus' eyes fell, his body stiffening as his mind recalled previous thoughts. "Exactly."

"Why even bother with this?" The teen inquired in a forlorn whisper. "Do you truly hate me that much?" The words were pathetic, Remus knew, but it was the one question he had ached to ask the man since his first transformation. He felt his hate toward his father justified -- nothing had forced John's cruelty onto him. But Remus' affliction -- his wolf -- had not been brought on by anything he had done. It had been an unfortunate accident -- no one's fault.

"I have been digging around the Ministry," his father started, ignoring the question. "And I stumbled upon a rather brilliant witch by the name of Dolores Umbridge. I'm sure you have heard of her?" A snarl inside of Remus' head -- he was certain that his eyes had burned the murderous gold, if only for a moment. John chuckled darkly. "Yes, it seems that you have. Then I am certain that you have heard of her Werewolf Registration Bill? A small start in an effort to contain and eventually destroy all half-breeds, but a brilliant one, if I do say so myself."

_'Why not just kill me, here and now?' _The graduate mentally begged. _"Just do it. One Killing Curse. They probably won't even arrest you. Just do it. It couldn't hurt anymore than this. Please. Just get it over with.'_

"Remus!" It was the sound of Sirius' call that broke the intensity between father and son, and it took all Remus had not to fall back against his lover's chest as the Pureblood wizard stepped up behind him. "Here you are! James and I have been looking all over the place for you! We need your help. Peter's gone and said something stupid to Lily -- again -- and she's turned him into some rather small and slimy creature I'm sure has never existed before -- oh! I didn't know you were talking to someone! Hullo there! Sirius Black, at your service. Resident prankster and shame of my mother's disgusting flesh. How do you do?" The animagus said this all very quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile that told Remus that he did not know this person, but knew his lover was uncomfortable, and that was all he needed.

When John did not step up to introduce himself, Remus reluctantly took up the reigns of the greetings, knowing quite well what would follow. "Sirius, this is my father, John Lupin."

And that was all that needed to be said. Sirius had always been an easy-going, laid-back spirit, but there were times -- rare though they were -- that one could see the traces of the dark wizarding line he came from. As bright cobalt eyes darkened to near obsidian, and the mischievous smirk disappeared, the teenaged wonder became the spitting image of Orion Black, and it took a shake of the head to remind Remus that the person before him was indeed his boyfriend.

"Master Lupin." His tone had changed -- tighter, darker, more controlled. He offered a hand, and against good judgment, John took it. In the blink of an eye, Sirius had the elder wizard pulled to him until their noses were almost touching. "What a displeasure it is to finally meet you, sir."

"I -- I beg your pardon?" Remus' father stuttered. "Let me go this instant, young man!" The smile returned to Sirius' face, more sinister, frightening. Remus pushed back a little.

"I've been planning ways to murder you for the past six years, my good sir," Sirius whispered maliciously in the man's ear. "The Killing Curse, a Skinning Potion, the Severing Charm. Recently, though, I've been fantasizing about Muggle methods. Guns are all well and good, but I was thinking something more along the lines of torture. Do you know that when you use a Muggle knife to remove a limb, your victim feels every second of it? So much more satisfactory than the Severing Charm, beautiful though _that_ is."

"You ... you dare to threaten me?" It was an attempt at bravado, and a poor one at that, yet Remus was too stunned by this new side of Sirius to find any amusement.

"_Me_?" And just like that, Sirius pulled back, a stunned look on his face. "Why sir, I've never threatened anyone in my life!" Once more, and only once more, his tone lowered. "I make promises. and I promise that that so-called "threat" will become reality if you ever come near Remus again. It is _your_ tragedy, Master Lupin, that you have thrown away someone as intelligent and kind as your son -- that you have never, and will never, know him for who he is." He stepped beside Remus now, purposely pressing his hand to the werewolf's lower back to where the older wizard could easily see the move. "It would be best if you were to leave now, sir, lest you wish a Grim in your near future."

John eyed him for a moment, a wicked sneer twisted across his face, a note of fear in his hazel eyes. His gaze then turned to Remus, and for a moment, the teen fancied he saw a flicker of the man he had once known and loved. And then he turned, and was gone. And not for the first time, Remus felt truly lost.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Sirius asked softly, leaning to press their heads together. Remus simply nodded. "What are you thinking about, love?" Remus turned so that their eyes met.

"I think ... I think I'm broken," he whispered. But there was no pity in the animagus' eyes, no faux sympathy. Instead, there was understanding, and a glow of something else. Without warning, Sirius gripped the back of Remus' neck and pulled, crashing their lips together in a painful, blissful collision.

It was odd for Remus, to be on the receiving end of a move. Usually, he was the aggressor, at the demand of his wolf, and Sirius was more than happy to allow him the control. But this ... this was different. This was comforting, soothing somehow in its needy frenzy. Sirius' tongue stroked his, at first coaxing, and then commanding a reply. It was a battle both familiar and foreign, and Remus found himself willingly conceding. Teeth clashed in desperation, but it was only when hips began to jerk in need of contact that they withdrew, vaguely recalling that they were in public.

"Well _I_ think that I _like_ you broken, Moony," muttered Sirius affectionately, pressing a brief kiss to messy auburn hair before turning to face the small crowd that had gathered around them. "Oi, what are you lot looking at?" He demanded, mock incredulous. "I know that some people are into voyeurism, but honestly! There's no need to be so obvious about it!"

And as the crowd around them blushed in embarrassment and shot Sirius dark looks as they dissipated, a smile finally found its way onto Remus' face. Discreetly, he allowed his fingertips to brush along Sirius' spine as James came running up, a large, sluggish thing in his hands, a furious Lily Evans ambling behind, apparently in no hurry. This was his graduation day. The future was making it quite clear that it had a rocky, harsh road planned out for him, but at the moment, he didn't quite care. Of course it still hurt, but he supposed that was the point. Hurt made sure that you could still feel. And if you could still feel, then you were able to tell when it stopped becoming hurt, and started becoming something more. Something ... different.

Better.

**End**

_My first Sirius/Remus piece. Not so bad, I think. But that's me. And right now, I'm a little more interested to know what you lot think. Hopefully it will fair better than _Pain_, eh?_

_Anyway, this is getting posted right now, because it's officially six days late for Brandi and Vicki's birthday. _**_(I love you guys!)._ **

_Until the next update, _

_Me_


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